


don't wanna see you frown

by LunarExo



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Game, Trans Male Character, mentions of a series of dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26833441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarExo/pseuds/LunarExo
Summary: Zelos takes note of the changing seasons. Lloyd knows more than he lets on.
Relationships: Lloyd Irving/Zelos Wilder
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	don't wanna see you frown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenNeehola](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenNeehola/gifts).



> title from 128 by tomtsu

He wakes to crisp air.

Sharp and dry, it whispers sly promises for a winter chill, for bare feet numb on cold wooden floors and noses that burn with each chilly inhale and the desolate silence that comes with the death of so many living things. He scowls out the window, glaring at the half-naked trees swaying in the late autumn morning, before burrowing deeper under the covers in protest.

Normally, by now, he'd be making plans to migrate somewhere warm, bunkering down in some overpriced hotel to gorge himself on sweets and wine with only the bitter knowledge that every other pretty single thing there was as lonely as him. That wasn't an option this year, he thought, taking stock of the warm body pressed against his back. He couldn't imagine Lloyd so willingly abandoning his new blended family, or his hard-fought peaceful home. and the thought of going himself made his chest ache with every festering insecurity he had.

(If he left, Lloyd would have the chance to see how much less work he had, how much better off he was. If he left, he was sure there’d be no place left for him when he returned, the space he carved out for himself here so easily filled by people who belonged so much more.)

He huffs, and presses incessantly back against Lloyd’s chest, tugging his arms to hold him that much tighter. He should be waking up soon, and Zelos knows he’s got only a bit longer to enjoy this morning ritual, so he pushes away unpleasant thoughts just enough to enjoy this chaste intimacy.

“Hey, Zelos…” he hears, soft and plying. Zelos can’t help but huff, even as a smile pulls at his face. A leg presses between his own, warm and solid, and hands stroke soothingly along his sides. He’s being _tricked_ , and even before Lloyd speaks he can hear the, _can you make breakfast today_ , and _we have to get up, you know_.

A hand settles on his hip. He prepares for a push, but feels himself be pulled instead, and with a surprised noise he rolls over for Lloyd, chest to chest. The sleepy smile on his partner’s face is enough to raise his eyebrows.

“Thought you’d be kicking me out of bed by now honestly, angel.”

Lloyd shakes his head, smiling wider. “Not today!” He follows his words up with a kiss to Zelos’ nose, and then the corner of his mouth, “it’s cold, we should stay in bed.”

“Oh,” Zelos says, and then, because he really can’t help himself, “if this is your way of propositioning me—”

A hand over his mouth silences him plenty effectively, and then Lloyd is maneuvering himself closer, tucking Zelos’ face into his neck, the movement so exaggeratedly protective (especially when he’s _very much the shorter one_ ,) that Zelos almost laughs. _Almost_. All that stops him is that same knot of discomfort that crawls up his throat at any sign of genuine affection, forcing him to focus hard on swallowing even as Lloyd continues to gently nudge and prod him into a more comfortable position.

He manages, eventually. Were the bed any shorter, Zelos’ feet would probably be hanging off the end. But he can hear Lloyd’s heartbeat like this, and the familiar scent of him—smoky and earthy and perfect—is just right to drown out the awful smell of cold, and when Lloyd’s fingers begin to pet through his hair it’s more than enough to pull him back under a thick spell of sleep.  
  


* * *

  
It’s still cold when he wakes up again, but this time the sun is high enough in the sky that the worst of it has been chased away. More than that, he feels pleasantly, stiflingly hot, his whole face warmed where it’d been tucked against Lloyd’s skin. It’d probably feel a little disgusting, if he didn’t want to rub himself all over that scent already. (It’s probably disgusting anyway. He decides to keep this little tidbit to himself.)

“Wha’ time is it?” He manages, even as he nuzzles affectionately at Lloyd.

Lloyd laughs in response, pulling him closer.

“Quarter past eleven,” he says, and Zelos wonders what in the world came over his boyfriend to let him get away with _that_.

“Did I do somethin’ special?” He asks, but nuzzles more aggressively at Lloyd anyway in thanks.

It’s enough that Lloyd pushes him away, laughing and cupping his face and laughing some more, his face brighter than the sun could ever hope to be, and then shakes his head.

“I just wanted to make you smile, Zelos. You have a pretty smile.”

His heart stutters helplessly in his chest, beating off rhythm and choking his words. Zelos throws his arms around his neck instead, kissing him until he feels sufficiently awake. And if he’s smiling when they finally stumble down the stairs hand in hand, then that’s just between the two of them.  
  


* * *

  
They make breakfast together, and it feels a lot like the best parts of a battle. That’d been the first thing he’d fallen for, he thinks, if he were to trace the trajectory of his feelings for one Lloyd Irving back to their first fateful meeting. He’d always been a restless fighter, bouncing on his feet from place to place, moving to a song only he could hear. Lloyd, in contrast, stayed firm, stance wide and boots planted in the ground. They should have been entirely incompatible, should have butted heads and gotten each other hurt and decided to stay firmly away from each other and that’d have been _that_.

But Lloyd stood firm, and saw so much more than anyone gave him credit for. He made space for Zelos to move, drew attention away from him, smiled big and proud when they’d defeated whatever sad sack of monster had stood in their way. And if Lloyd could have his back, and trust Zelos to have his in turn—

Well, it was easy to see how they ended up here, when he put it like that. And it felt the same, in the broadest sense. No blades and shields, but Zelos spun his way around the kitchen, handing Lloyd this and that and chopping food with a flourish that had his beloved laughing into a spatula, their food frying up on the stove.

“You’re so stupid,” Lloyd remarked. His nose scrunched up when Zelos bounced over, kissing him there, and his cheeks were warm where Zelos pressed his own against it to watch him work.

“You sure that’s enough cheese you’ve got there?”

“No,” Lloyd replies, and Zelos just barely manages to get the bowl of shredded cheese away from him before he _ruins their meal_ to make a point. Goddess, no wonder that magic brat had to learn to cook for the lot of them.  
  


* * *

  
The meal, miraculously, survives. Eggs cooked with cheese and something fresh and leafy neither of them know the name of but that Dirk told them was ready to harvest, and a plate of cut apple and pear from a basket he’d picked with Lloyd himself. (Zelos would much rather have a nice bowl of cantaloupe, but the summer harvest is long past. It’s still good fruit, and the memory of having the taste of freshly picked pear kissed off his lips is more than enough to make up for it.) 

It’s simple, and the simplicity of it is somehow the most enticing part. He can’t imagine eating something so plain back in his manor, but he also can’t imagine _making_ something, or the warm press of Lloyd’s arm against his own, or the soft brush of their socked feet under the table as he swings his legs.

He wondered how the place was now, anyway. Seles was there, and Sebastian, so it wasn’t as if the place was abandoned. But had Seles changed anything? He’d made it as clear as possible she could do as she pleased, had even moved the portrait of his mother to his personal chambers because, _well_. Would she have the walls painted? Get a dog, a cat, a _bird_? Would the place be warm enough for her? He hadn’t been there in the winter for so long, and if the temperature was anything like here—

Lloyd kicks him. Not hard, but enough that he rips his eyes away from the window he’d been staring out of, turning to glare at him. There’s a fork hanging out of his mouth, and his cheeks are red. An… Accident, then. Zelos’ softens, giving him a gentle kick back.

“Something on your mind?” He asks, ignoring the irony of asking that to Lloyd.

“I was just looking at you. You have more freckles on your nose today,” Lloyd says, so shamelessly and genuinely fond Zelos absolutely does not have the heart to tell him those are _probably_ blackheads, because it’s a bitch and a half to get a good skincare routine going out here in the boonies.

He sticks his tongue out petulantly anyway, reaching out to rub his palm on Lloyd’s chin, “and you have stubble.” Lloyd lights up _instantly_ , the idiot, rubbing his face on Zelos’ hand. “What happened to forging a razor?”

“What happened to getting me shaving cream? I thought I ‘ _needed it’_ or I’d ‘ _cut my pretty face up’_ and ‘ _get a rash’_ ,” he gesticulates as he goes, fingers waggling, and Zelos rolls his eyes.

“Soon,” he says, “unless you want to grow a beard like your dad?”

“Nah,” Lloyd replies, finally brushing Zelos’ hand off to return to his food, “it’s not really my style. Not yet, at least. It’s just nice to know I _can_ , you know? Means the hormones are still working.” He pauses, mouth full of food, and then wags his fork a bit as he continues, “Besides, dad—er, Kratos dad—he didn’t have a beard and he looked plenty masculine. If I’ve got his pants—”

“…Pants?”

“Yeah, you know. Raine was telling me about it, that I have his jeans. Which is weird cause, honestly, I thought maybe he had a closet of just the same purple outfit three times…”

Zelos squints, weighing the likelihood that Lloyd is fucking with him. But he _looks_ serious, picking absentmindedly at the remains of his meal, and eventually he just sighs. “You are _so_ lucky you’re good with your hands. And easy on the eyes.”

“What?! That’s what she said!”

“Oh, _hun_.”

“I swear I didn’t hear it wrong! Genis said it too, and he actually cares about this stuff! Zelos? Zelos, stop laughing!”

For a moment, Meltokio winters feel a world away.  
  


* * *

  
Lloyd kisses him a lot. He’d be more surprised at how tactile he is, if he hadn’t spent months travelling with him, watching his hands reach out to brush every rock and leaf and item in a store, no matter the consequences.

Still, the force of his focus is something he hadn’t been prepared for. He’s single-minded and shockingly observant, and more than once Zelos has opened his eyes from a kiss to find Lloyd staring at him, those pretty brown eyes wide and sharp. He’d grown used to it, and now it was just another endearing quirk, like his insistence on always squeezing someone’s hand before letting go, or his staunch refusal to eat raw tomatoes.

He kisses Zelos now, hiking him right off his feet with that ridiculous swordsman strength of his, lips quirking up against Zelos’ lips when he stutters on a breath. Yeah, _sue him_ , so he’s weak to a pretty boy sweeping him off his feet, it isn’t like its news anymore.

He’s just starting to get lightheaded, fingers tugging frantically at Lloyd’s hair when he pulls back. He quirks his lips, self-satisfied in a way that sends a spark of heat down Zelos’ spine, the kind of genuine confidence he’d mimed for years. Then he sets him down as easily as he’d lifted him up, planting a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks for helping with breakfast,” he says, smile obvious where it lingers by Zelos’ face.

He scoffs, the hand still in Lloyd’s hair petting to the back of his neck. “If I knew I’d get a reward like _that_ , hunny, I’d never leave the kitchen.”

It’s the right thing to say. Which means it’s the _wrong_ thing to say, Lloyd’s eyes lighting up. “What if… I asked you to do the dishes? And you knew you’d get a reward after.”

Zelos’ purses his lips. Sighs. Shakes his head. “Honestly,” he says, voice much more put-out than he really feels, “only this long for our relationship to become transactional… And here I thought you wanted me for _me_.”

Lloyd’s eyes grow wide. “Wait, no! You can have as many kisses as you want?”

“…As many as I want?”

“…You can have a reasonable amount of kisses!” he amends, and Zelos laughs and kisses him firmly and feels no small amount of pride when this time it’s Lloyd red-faced and demure, ducking his eyes shyly as Zelos holds his face.

“I love you, so I’ll do the dishes. No payment required.”  
  


* * *

  
He goes to find Lloyd when he’s done cleaning. It hadn’t taken long, and he’d spent the whole while consumed by warm thoughts of hands and lips and soft laughter against his skin. He’d never ached so much for vulnerability in his life, and the novelty of it hasn’t even begun to wear off. Sometimes he wonders if it ever will, or if he’ll spend his whole life riding the high of letting himself love.

(No wonder Lloyd had the energy to save the world if _this_ was his default state.)

“Zelos, perfect timing!”

Speak of the devil, he supposed. A very cute devil, wearing a black apron (well-worn, thick,) and one of Zelos’ headbands (stolen, and irreparably soot stained). There’re two perfect little red rings on his cheeks where his safety goggles had dug into his face, and a smudge of something black on his chin.

Zelos steps forward, licking his thumb to wipe it off. Lloyd, for once, only grumbles a little before he’s right back to smiling, tugging Zelos by the arm.

“I need your hand,” he announces. Zelos holds it out, unquestioning. He knows how this goes by now, and there’s no use speaking when his voice risks coming out a little too choked up on expectations all the same. He wears a lot of rings these days, and more often than not they’ve got a little touch of Lloyd in them, from resizing or resetting or a thorough shining regime.

But the others do as well, it doesn’t mean anything special. Even if Lloyd treats him so gently, holding his hand with something near reverence each time he slides another ring onto his hands. Zelos wonders how he doesn’t feel his pulse pounding each time, or notice his breath stuttering. Oblivious man.

“They’re so cold,” Lloyd comments, looping the string around each finger, stopping only to turn away and scribble down some numbers. When he’s done, he reaches for Zelos’ other hand, and brings both to his lips, kissing them gently, “you should stay here by the forge with me, you’ll catch a cold.”

“You don’t normally want me around so much,” Zelos admits, just on the edge of too self-deprecating to stand.

Lloyd narrows his eyes at him in warning.

He puts a hand up, pacifying, and then lets it settle on Lloyd’s face. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll stay. Where else would I want to be anyway, when my favourite angel is right here?”

“Probably back in bed,” Lloyd suggests.

Zelos laughs, pressing their foreheads together. “Probably. Show me what you’re working on then, before I get bored and do just that.”

“Right!” He pulls away, grinning toothily. “Raine gave me all these gems she found the other week. They’re elven…”

Lloyd trails off, speaking little on what he knows about the gems—although Zelos has a feeling that’s more a lack of listening on his part than a lack of explanation on Raine’s—and speaking at length on his plans for them. Between his enthusiasm and the heat of the forge, Zelos feels very warm indeed.  
  


* * *

  
He had a feeling it was going to snow. It was… Not exactly a very far-reaching assumption, all things considered. He knew it was encroaching on winter. He knew it was _cold_ , and just the thought had him wrapping Lloyd’s jacket (stolen,) tighter around his shoulders, wondering why he’d decided to leave the warm workshop behind.

(He’d wanted quiet, and needed a break from just how much love he’d been drowning in. But now he felt lonely, and chilly, and entirely too proud to go slinking back even if Lloyd wouldn’t care in the slightest—)

“Zelooooos.”

Hands press into his hair, dull nails scratching at his scalp. He shudders, as weak to it as ever, and lets his head loll back against the couch, his prior thoughts immediately forgotten.

“Hope you cleaned the soot off those this time hun,” he murmurs, accepting that if he hadn’t it was just too late. Not that he was particularly pleased with the idea of his hair streaked through with black, but it was a small sacrifice for the mind-numbing tranquility of his boyfriend’s hands in his hair.

Lloyd laughs, pressing chapped lips to his cheek. “I did,” He promises, bundling the hair up in his hands. “Are you doing anything?”

“I could be,” Zelos says, rolling his shoulders, “do you have something in mind?”

“Can I braid your hair?”

He leans back further, peering at an upside-down Lloyd. His cheeks are a little pink, but he doesn’t look particularly stressed or flustered or like he needs something to do with his hands. Just… Determined. The thought rises unbidden that _maybe he just wants to be close_ , and the idea of Lloyd seeking him out for domestic intimacy puts a lump in his throat.

He nods, and lets himself be pulled in a daze up the stairs once more.

The thing is, Zelos can’t actually braid his own hair. As much as he preens and brushes and takes meticulous care of his red locks, it’s a thick unruly thing when it wants to be, and his arms are only so long. He’d accepted his lot in life, resigning himself to messy ponytails (until the elastic snapped), messier buns, and his personal favourite—a good headband.

Braids, then, were relegated to formal events exclusively, where some other fool could deal with his hair in a way that didn’t give their arms a _serious_ workout.

Colette could do braids much easier. Her hair was about as long, but fine and silky where his own was full and thick. Imagine his surprise when, after complimenting her sunny pigtails, she’d gushed about how much better _her dear friend Lloyd_ had gotten at them.

(A little shamefully, he’d had more than one lengthy daydream where Lloyd sat behind him just like this, hands firm but surprisingly gentle, working his hair into parts with the type of concentration he usually reserved for saving the world or picking the best cut of beef at a market.)

More realistically, he’d been hesitant to let someone touch his hair outside of a dressing room. There were too many variables there, too many things he couldn’t predict. Colette’s hair was so much thinner than his, and she was shorter. Lloyd knew her better. Lloyd probably only braided _her_ hair. What if he pulled it out trying to get at a knot? What if it hurt? What if it brought something unspoken to the surface, in the quiet intimacy that rose? (What if it _hurt?_ )

In the end, the choice had been made with almost no thought on his part. Just Lloyd’s hands fidgeting in his lap, his voice quiet when he admitted he always went to Colette when he was nervous, and she let him braid her hair to calm down, but Colette was _gone_.

It was routine after that, but it was routine for Lloyd’s benefit. It just helped that he did do a pretty good job. And if Zelos was a little too eager to offer his head up for the greater good, then so what? Call him a martyr, erect him one of those nice statues his companions got and name him Saint Wilder. And get his good side. 

Lloyd worked his hair into two parts, his hands sure.

“Sheena taught me how to do a fishtail braid.” He said. “It’s popular in Mizuho, apparently. During a summer festival? She said it looks nice on Colette, so I thought it’d look nice on you too.”

“Mmm,” Zelos replied, eyes slipping shut. Lloyd’s voice was rich and deep, and it resonated pleasantly in Zelos’ mind, a perfect compliment to the hands playing with his hair. He probably looked dopey, he didn’t even _care_.

Lloyd moved slowly. For all his habit of growing bored at the slightest provocation, he was incredibly focused when he needed to be. Zelos let himself enjoy it, sighing sweetly when Lloyd’s hands brushed his skin, cooing soothing words at him when he grumbled and undid his work to restart.

“You’re still learning hunny, no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

And try as he might, there was no thinking like this. Every half-formed idea fled with just the slightest tug on his hair, until he gave in and let himself fall into a semi-meditative trance, only moving as Lloyd nudged his head around for this or that angle.  
  


* * *

  
It almost worked. The seemingly unending rotation of hot drinks and the oversized pot of seafood stew, Lloyd letting—encouraging, even—him to stay in bed late, and plying him with kisses and intricate braids and new jewelry, the darling bastard trying to distract him with shiny trinkets and squishy sentimental feelings.

 _Stay in bed, Zelos_ , _come let me size you for this ring, Zelos, do you want more tea Zelos?, Sheena taught me how to do a fishtail braid, Zelos, let me try it on you, inside, we’ll stay inside—_

The first snowflake landed on his nose, large and wet. He whipped around immediately, torn between offended and flattered and affronted and _smitten_ , and settled for gaping like a fish at a red-faced, frozen Lloyd.

“You—”

Just one word was enough to break his stupor, and Zelos felt two warm hands settle on his bare neck, searing against the dry chill of winter air.

“Let’s go inside, alright? I said I could get the wood myself.”

“You _knew_.”

Lloyd shrugged, like it was obvious. “Well, yeah. The air got all dry and cold, it always does that when it’s about to snow,” he guided Zelos to sit back on the couch, still on the frozen side of stunned, watching Lloyd pull the curtains shut tight, set a fire stoking in the hearth, set a hot mug in front of him, lay a soft blanket across his lap.

The nervous, bustling energy rolling off him in waves was enough for both of them, and he found his own anxiously tittering heart silenced for a moment, like it’d passed from him to the man currently shuffling around their shared space.

He sat. Met Zelos’ eyes. Looked away. Brought his knees to his chest, then let them drop down again, hands rubbing anxiously on his upper thighs.

Zelos sighed, “you know a little snow won’t kill me, right? I don’t _like it_ , but it won’t kill me,” he said, and smiled in what he hoped was a pleasant, neutral way.

Lloyd bit his lip, in that cute way he did when he was trying to find the right way to say something. His brow furrowed, nose all scrunched up. That alone was a enough to settle his smile into something more natural.

(He should have known, by now, that letting his guard down around Lloyd Irving just meant letting him stomp it to bits, tearing down his castle walls brick by brick.)

“I just didn’t want you to see any snow here,” Lloyd finally admitted, eyes big and earnest and entirely too honest. “This is my home, and I want you to maybe think of it as yours too one day, and I want you to feel _safe_ here,” he paused, chin jutting out in stubborn confidence, “with me. Because you deserve it, and you deserve so much more than you’ve been given.”

A sharp retort rose up immediately, threatening to spill out. Something automatic and teasing about how safe he could really be in a home where people kept leaving red-hot metal lying around. But that wasn’t really it, was it? Lloyd never cared about bumps and bruises and cuts, no matter how much Raine and Dirk and Kratos and Colette and Genis and _pretty much everyone they knew_ scolded him for his careless, foolhardy nature.

When Lloyd said _safe_ , he tugged at Zelos’ very soul.

He softened, fingers stroking at the edge of the blanket, “you sure went to a lot of effort to hide it.”

“I didn’t want you to even have to worry about it! You’re so lazy anyway, it was working fine until you decided to do work for once in your life.”

Ignoring the dig at his work ethic (for now,) Zelos just huffed, raising a brow, “and if it hadn’t melted?”

“Then I’d have kept distracting you! I’d distract you forever Zelos, really, I just don’t want to see you make that face anymore.”

“…What face,” he asks.

Lloyd shrugs, scuffing his feet against the floor. “You get this face,” he said, “whenever you’re getting sad about stuff. Where you look really far away. It makes me think about what you said, way back—”

“—In Flanoir,” Zelos finishes for him. That felt like worlds away, but the gravity of that exchange wasn’t lost on either of them. He sighs, thumbing at the end of his braid—the braid Lloyd had done for him, in what he now knew was an attempt to distract him from his own head.

“You’ve figured me out too well, hunny,” he whispers. It’s a compliment. It’s also a plea and a reprimand, one he knows Lloyd won’t heed. (It’s one of the things he loves most, when he considers how he found himself here. Walls breaking down, his heart settled, domesticated.)

Lloyd, unsurprisingly, just smiles at him. It’s the last expression he sees before he’s pulled into toned arms, squeezed tight to a warm chest. “Don’t go back outside yet, okay? We’ll deal with the snow thing later. Or, uh. Never.”

“You’ll spoil me,” Zelos says, aiming for teasing and landing somewhere closer to embarrassment.

Lloyd rolls his eyes. “That’s fine. I already said you were lazy anyway.”

“You’ll regret it. I won’t get out of bed at all.”

“You’ll get bored. And lonely. And you’ll get out of bed if I ask anyway, right?”

(He would. He _would_ , and the fact that he’s so wrapped around someone’s finger—especially someone as dense as Lloyd—should scare him something awful. Instead, he feels warm all over again.)

“You got me,” he says, and somehow, he thinks every layer of meaning passes between them with just a glance.

It’s no cure, but for at least a moment his discomfort is outweighed by warm hands and warmer smiles, and he’s reminded again why this life was worth all the effort.

**Author's Note:**

> For my dearest friend and partner [Neenee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenNeehola/pseuds/QueenNeehola), who dealt with me going "IS THIS YOUR MAN???" and "i wish my dad was here" whenever zelos opened his mouth. i love u so much!!! thank u for introducing me to this game and my new dad and watching me play and spending so much time with me and being so patient i love u so much. 
> 
> lloyds a trans man and we love it for him. 
> 
> if youre here because u like zelos check out this pic of him i made in ms paint


End file.
